[Closed for the Day]
A wooden sign hung outside Solace Port's most talked-about clinic, scattering the long line that had formed in the early morning into a noisy crowd.
"Yes, yes, the doctor isn't feeling well today. Please come back another time." The man with Page Hammer hanging at his waist pushed the crowd back with force, but no matter how deliberately he kept his voice low, it couldn't reach everyone. The armor plates under his robe did little to intimidate these sea-faring ruffians, either.
He began to feel glad that after receiving his bonus, he hadn't spent it on pointless luxuries like the sailors. Instead, he'd bought some relatively lightweight protective gear, including a buckled breastplate and arm guards, the sort commonly supplied to mercenaries who needed protection that was still easy to carry.
He'd bought them to learn from his experience in battle, but the first time they proved useful was when they gave him an advantage in a physical scuffle.
In truth, if he hadn't been worried about the clinic owner's reaction, the situation would have gotten out of hand already. The agitated patients were mostly sailors, whose time here was limited. They might not return for months, and that was unacceptable to them.
It was hard to say how the news had spread. It had probably started with the legendary Captain Bearded William, who had found treasure in the Southern Hills and, while recruiting a crew, advertised his friend's newly opened clinic.
In Solace Port, news spread in two extremes. Boring stories went no farther than where they originated. Even without the obstacle of a half-curtain, they couldn't make it out of the room. But when a story found the right channels and catered to the public's most pressing needs, it became remarkably infectious.
Some rumors,